A Dragon's Fury
by Tehri
Summary: Despite having a happy relationship with Alfred, Arthur finds himself doubting the American's feelings. And when he finds said American in bed with Russia, he decides that it's time for the Dragon to let go - if only the Dragon is willing to do so...


**A/N: Of course I couldn't just let it end like it did after Chasing The Dragon! D: Anyway. xD This is the sequel to Chasing The Dragon, but it's not necessary to have read that one before this. I could impossibly leave the story just like that, it's just not in me to do so. Besides, my dear friend Red Hot Holly Berries seemed to approve much of this idea. xD And to be honest, it's much thanks to her that this sequel ever came to be.**

**

* * *

**

It wasn't that Arthur had been convinced about that he and Alfred would forever be together after all they had gone through; it wasn't that it had meant something, the dreams, the harsh words, the pain, or the confessions of love to each other. Arthur knew that he shouldn't expect that he could keep a dragon with him. And just like a dragon, Alfred was far from tame, too willing to fly away and explore the world. In the end, Arthur really wasn't surprised.

Two whole years had gone when Arthur began to notice it. Alfred wasn't looking at him anymore. Or well, he looked at him, just not _looked_ at him. It was as if everything had just disappeared. When calling Arthur by one of those silly endearing names, like "Artie" or "Iggy" or any of the others, his eyes used to sparkle with mirth, a warm spark that showed that while he liked to tease, it was never meant as a real joke. Nothing cruel, only sweet childishness. When he said those three words, those precious three words, he would look straight into Arthur's eyes and smile, to show that he was serious when he said it. But lately, these signs had slowly started to wane away, and it was bothering the Englishman to no end. Didn't Alfred love him anymore? What if he wanted to leave? It took him a lot of time to convince himself that he didn't need to worry, that he shouldn't watch Alfred like a bloody hawk. The lad wasn't his property. If he wanted to leave, then he would leave, and Arthur could deal with that, couldn't he? He had never expected that they would stay together... It wasn't in the American's nature.

The one who had decided to listen to Arthur and sort of take him under his wing wasn't Francis, it wasn't even Kiku. It was Matthew; although the poor Canadian was often forgotten, Arthur suddenly found himself on the lad's doorstep with a desperate wish to speak to him, to catch up with him and get to know him again. Of course, the boy had been surprised at first, but at the same time he had eagerly allowed the older man to come in, he had made some tea for them both, and they had talked about everything they could think of. Matthew had quickly noticed that Arthur delicately avoided speaking about Alfred, and luckily, he had not pushed the subject. If the man didn't want to talk about him, then they wouldn't. However, he began to wonder. Shouldn't Arthur be happy? Shouldn't he _want_ to talk about his relationship, when he had waited for so long for it to happen? So why did he avoid it...?

Arthur hummed quietly to himself as he walked up to the door; he hadn't been gone for long, but he knew that Alfred should have arrived already. They had both managed to get a whole week off, and they were going to make the most of it. There would be nothing to worry about, and they would have a wonderful time together. He calmly unlocked the door and stepped inside. Just as expected, Alfred's precious bomber jacket had been carelessly thrown on the floor, along with his favourite pair of sturdy combat boots. What he _hadn't_ expected, however, was the long coat and the other pair of boots. A long tan coat that was eerily familiar. And there were noises coming from upstairs, loud moans and a voice that he recognised as Alfred's that said something. A frown appeared on his face as he silently crept up the stairs; the door to the bedroom was opened to a crack, and now he could hear Alfred's voice more clearly.

"O-oh god, yes, yes, d-don't stop...! Ah, _fuck_!"

As he carefully peeked into the room, Arthur realised that he had been right. There on the bed, on _Arthur's _bed, was Alfred, on his back and completely naked, and with _Ivan_ over him. They moved rhythmically together, although every single movement seemed almost designed to bring out more pain than pleasure; however, the American wasn't complaining at all, he was actually crying out the Russian's name. Slowly, and without making a single sound, Arthur stepped away from the door and instead went to one of the guestrooms. He stored some of his clothes in one of them, and he quickly grabbed some and headed back downstairs, still careful to avoid any parts of the stair and the floor that he knew would creak. He grabbed a bag that stood in the corner of the hallway, shoved the clothes down into it, and left the house.

If you have ever been interrupted during an evening spent watching hockey and found that the one knocking on your door is the person who told you only last week that he would be spending time with your brother, then you know just how surprised Matthew was to see Arthur show up on his doorstep late at night, a weak smile on his face and a bag in his hand.

"I'm sorry, Matthew, I should have called," he said silently. "Just... Do you mind if I stay here, just for the night? I could go and find a hotel in the morning, but-"

Matthew grabbed the older man's hand and dragged him inside, firmly closing the door behind him.

"If you explain why you're here and not at home with Al," he replied. "You can stay here for as long as you'd like, Arthur."

For a moment, Arthur shuddered, but it passed too quickly for the Canadian to be certain about that it had really been there.

"I'd prefer not to talk about it right now," the Englishman replied, a slight smile on his face. "We had a fight, and I needed to get out for a while."

It took a moment for Matthew's suspicious look to disappear, but he didn't say anything. If Arthur didn't want to talk about it, it was best to leave it all be. As long as he wasn't crying, it would probably be alright... It always turned out alright as long as he didn't cry.

Arthur wasn't certain about what he should think when he ran into Alfred at the airport when he returned to England. The American was frowning, which was understandable due to all the unanswered calls (in fact, only one had been answered, and Arthur had told the younger man that he had been called to Belfast for some extra work), and grabbed the older man's hand and dragged him off. Arthur made no attempt to make the lad let go; Alfred had always been strong, and he seemed rather upset at the moment. Which meant that it would be more or less absolutely useless to even try to wriggle loose. As soon as they were out of sight, the Englishman got shoved up against a wall by an obviously upset American.

"Where the fuck have you been," he asked angrily. "I thought that we were gonna spend the week together! I was _waiting_ for you, for fuck's sake! I don't fucking believe that you were in Belfast, or whatever! You _said_ that the week off was clear, and that they wouldn't give you _any_ extra work! So where the hell were you, and why were you avoiding me?"

Arthur kept his calm and gazed into the intense sky blue eyes; he knew far too well about his lover's (no, ex-lover's) jealousy-problem. It had been an issue since day one of the relationship. Alfred couldn't handle the thought of Arthur being with someone else.

"I was in Belfast." The lie persistently repeated itself. "Whatever you think, that's the truth. I'm sorry that I didn't call you, but it was more or less a last minute request."

"Who were you fucking?"

For a moment, emerald eyes widened in honest surprise. The brat dared, actually dared, to claim that he, _Arthur_, had been unfaithful!

"I _beg_ your pardon?" He shoved hard at the taller man's chest, the surprise in his eyes turning into a furious glare. "Just what the bloody hell are you saying, you insolent bastard?"

"Was it France?" Alfred glared back at his old mentor. "Or Spain? Or maybe Prussia? You've been _really_ fucking chummy with him lately!"

A hand came up and slapped the American, hard. Arthur glared angrily at him and pried the strong hands off his shoulders.

"I have not been cheating on you," he growled. "I know _plenty_ of people who would, but I could never do that! I thought you trusted me! Why would I ever cheat on you?"

Slowly, painfully slowly, the fire in Alfred's eyes began to fade. He stared back at the older man and took a deep breath to calm himself, trying to clear his thoughts a bit.

"Y-you really haven't," he asked quietly. "Really? You swear?"

The Brit managed to make his forced smile look more natural. Somehow, he felt happy about learning that strange "ability" from his brothers; it did come in handy.

"I have not been unfaithful, Alfred," he replied. "I haven't. Trust me, alright?" He sighed quietly. "Your flight is leaving in a little while. You need to go."

And as he watched the American leave, he somehow felt his heart get a little lighter, as if he had been suppressing the urge to explode in the git's face all along.

_I never thought that I would feel like this_, he thought. _Like I desperately want to say "finally" or "good riddance" when he leaves..._

_

* * *

_

The meeting had been quiet enough, and Arthur felt surprisingly calm in the presence of Alfred, who he had barely spoken to for the entire month. They had both been very busy, and they hadn't had the opportunity to speak that often; something that the Englishman felt quite happy about. But Alfred had seemed tense during the day and kept glancing worriedly at the older man, and once it was over he followed Arthur outside. Almost immediately, he grabbed the Brit's hand and dragged him off to a nearby alley.

"You seem to be a lot for dragging people around, lad," Arthur muttered when they stopped. "What is it this time? I'm in a hurry."

Alfred frowned and eyed him carefully.

"You've been weird lately," he grumbled. "You never say what's on your mind anymore, and you just... You don't _talk_ to me. I've been calling you a lot, and you don't pick up."

A frown slowly began to form on Arthur's face. He had called Alfred back as well. But had reached the answering machine. And once when the American _had_ picked up, he hadn't been alone; his breathing had been laboured, and there had been someone whispering in the background. Arthur didn't want to deal with it anymore. He hadn't done _anything_ to deserve being treated like this.

"We need to talk, Alfred."

Those five words seemed to make the younger man freeze, as if he had feared this for quite some time. He just stood there and stared, waiting for the green-eyed man to make the next move.

"Do you remember what you said?" Arthur spoke quietly, but refused to look away from Alfred's eyes. "You said that if I wanted to go, you would let me. And... I think that you need to keep that promise now."

Alfred looked rather shocked, as if he had absolutely no idea about why his lover would say this. As if he didn't know if he had done something wrong...

"Arthur, what... What's wrong? Have I done something bad?"

Within a moment, anger flared in Arthur again. "Done something bad"? Did the stupid git not remember what the fuck he had done?

"Yes, you have," he said, his voice slowly rising in volume as he continued to speak. "Or don't you remember? That day when you came to visit me, during our week off? I got home earlier than I should have, and I didn't call beforehand because I wanted to surprise you. And what do I find when I come back? I find you and Russia in _my_ bed. Having sex." He noticed Alfred's confused gaze. "You didn't see or hear me, no. Of course not, you were too busy with him, weren't you? I know that you are many things, Alfred, but I never thought of you as someone who would pretend to be completely serious about a relationship and then _cheat_ on the person who had waited for you for _years_!"

Alfred quickly covered the older man's mouth, still with that confused look on his face. But his eyes flashed in anger, anger over having been accused of cheating on the one he loved. As if he had never done anything wrong.

"What the hell, Iggy," he growled. "It was just sex! Why is it such a big deal? It's not like there were emotions or anything involved, it was _just_ sex!"

Just like at the airport, Arthur's hand automatically came up and slapped the taller man, but this time the slap was accompanied by words, furious words. The Englishman hadn't felt this angry since the Blitz...

"Just sex? Is that how you see it, Alfred? If there's nothing but lust involved, that somehow makes it alright to bed someone else? I thought you were serious about our relationship, you stupid bastard! If you were serious, you wouldn't go and sleep with someone else! It's not alright, of course I'm upset! Of course it's a big deal!"

Alfred grabbed his arms, holding them firmly against his body. Cerulean eyes met emerald ones, narrowing slightly, as if they were searching for something special. Something to justify his own actions.

"... What have you been doing lately," he suddenly asked, his voice surprisingly enough quiet. "Where have you been? And who have you been with?"

Arthur squirmed in his grasp, a frown starting to appear on his face. What was the brat aiming at now?

"So, who have you been fucking when I'm not around?" Alfred began to smirk slightly, looking almost as if he had caught his old mentor red-handed. "I know I've asked before, but you just won't give a straight answer... France, perhaps? I mean, he's nearby. Or perhaps... Denmark? You two do have some sort of history, I know that. Or could it be China? Or maybe Japan? Fuck, Kiku's been acting weird lately too..."

Arthur squirmed and kicked, attempting to hit more vital regions to make the brat let go of him.

"I haven't been sleeping with anyone, you bloody fool!"

"You're lying! It must've been someone!"

"Alfred, I've told you that I've never-"

"Canada!" The sudden mention of the American's brother made Arthur blink in surprise. "It was Matthew, wasn't it? You've always been so fucking chummy with him, you've always liked him better! I should've known, for fuck's sake!"

The Englishman could only stare, anger and shock flashing in his eyes. Oh no. _Oh no_. The brat did not just say that. He did not just drag his own brother into this. He did _not_ just claim that Arthur had slept with Matthew.

"What did you just say?" Arthur kept his voice dangerously low, remembering the reaction it normally got out of the younger man. "Did you just claim that I've been cheating on you with your brother? Are you really that pathetic, Alfred, that you can't handle me breaking up with you? Do you really believe that I've been with someone else?"

For a moment, he thought that he wouldn't get an answer; Alfred only stood there and glared at him, so to fill the silence, Arthur spoke again.

"Yes, I lied about Belfast," he said, taking note of how the brat's eyes narrowed again. "I was angry and sad, so I left the country for a while and stayed with Matthew. I've been talking to him a lot lately, because I was certain about that you would lie to me. You don't look at me like you used to, and whenever you say that you love me it's like you're only trying to convince me about it, there's no real emotion-"

A fist connecting with his jaw was an effective way to make him stop talking; Arthur reeled back from the force of the blow, slamming against the wall with full force. At first he wasn't certain about what had happened, but when he turned his head he saw Alfred step closer, fists clenched and ready to strike again. The poor Englishman could not even remember if he had ever seen such a furious look on the lad's face before.

"You're not leaving me." Alfred gritted his teeth as he spoke, but there was a strangely calm smile on his face at the same time. "You wouldn't leave me. You waited for me for so long, you wouldn't just leave me. Not even for this. It's just not you, Arthur. You wouldn't do such a thing, not to me." Another punch landed. "You're not leaving me, alright? You know that this is because you were with Matthew, so don't complain about it, okay? It's because of what I know you did, but I'm not leaving you because of it. I'm just showing you that I _am_ mad about it."

Arthur took a deep breath, attempting to get to his feet; but punch after punch landed, and soon he was lying curled up on the ground. A sturdy combat boot gave him a kick in his back, and Alfred laughed softly.

"You weren't the only one who had waited, Arthur," he sighed as he crouched down and ran his fingers through the sandy blonde hair of the other man. "I waited for you, for quite a while. Remember when I told you that I was really happy about that you confessed? Guess why. Because I had been waiting. So I'm not letting you go. Get it? I need you, Arthur... And I know that you need me..." He sighed softly again and shook his head. "Sorry, I have to go now, sweetie. I need some sleep, my boss and I will go back to the States tomorrow already..."

He walked away without looking back, seemingly confident about that Arthur would be alright. And as soon as he was out of sight, Arthur slowly pushed himself up on all fours, coughing and spluttering. He really hadn't expected the lad to hit him... At least not so hard. He took a deep breath, forcing himself to get up.

"Wonderful," he mumbled. "Bloody git... 'm bleeding... Oh, bleeding hell..."

He gasped loudly and stumbled, leaning heavily against the wall. How should he get back home in this state?

"Rest for a moment," he told himself. "Just for a moment... Then go home. J-just... Calm down a little. It's not as bad as you think, so calm down..."

After a mere moment's rest, he began to make his way back home. He avoided all bigger streets, hoping to not attract too much attention (and hoping that he would not run into anyone he knew), so it took a bit longer than usual, but eventually he stepped up to his door and found that it had been unlocked at some point.

"I swear, if he's here," he growled quietly as he stepped inside. "I'll kill him..."

"Arthur?"

Slowly, the Brit looked up, only to find a young blonde man stare back at him. The man looked suspiciously alike to Alfred, but at the same time, the soft voice betrayed who it was.

"Matthew," he sighed. "Bloody hell... Don't scare me like that." He gave the lad a weak smile and shook his head. "Honestly, I thought someone had broken into my house..."

Matthew took a few steps closer, frowning slightly. Arthur was bleeding, and he looked so very tired... And it looked like he had gotten a black eye.

"Arthur, did you get into a fight," he asked quietly, placing his hand on the older man's shoulder. "What happened?"

For a moment, Arthur only looked down. But when he raised his head and met the Canadian's steady gaze, he smiled faintly and nodded.

"I'll tell you in a moment," he replied. "If I may sit down and have some tea first..."

Matthew had blatantly refused to leave after Arthur had told him of everything that had happened. He stayed with the Brit and took care of him, calmly taking care of the injuries even though they were not that bad.

"Alfred might come back," he said sharply once when the older man asked him why he hadn't left. "And since he's apparently not above hitting you, I think that it's best to have someone who knows him around. So please, bear with me for a bit longer..."

As the days slowly passed, Arthur began to think a bit more about his relationship with the American. It had been filled with love and tenderness; they talked as often as they could, spent time together whenever they had the opportunity to do so, they called each other often, they even wrote letters. When he tried to think past the odd happiness that seemed to bleed all over it, Arthur remembered a vague sense of exasperation every time he'd speak to the younger man. As if he had subconsciously wondered why he was even in a relationship with the lad. It was a strange feeling, to notice it first now. Had Alfred noticed? Was that why he had been with someone else, because he noticed that Arthur wasn't as enthusiastic as him? Or was it simply that the passion had bled dry, that they couldn't get the same feeling anymore? The more he thought about it, the more he realised that it was no use trying to deny it. He _had_ loved Alfred, he _had_ been hurt by what happened. But at the same time, he had kept thinking so much about what had used to be, when the lad had truly been his little brother. He hadn't been able to let go, he had never let go. And it had evolved into everything he had gone through. Both body and mind had clung to the younger man, like a possessive child.

_Maybe that's the only reason to why I ever wanted him_, he thought to himself one calm evening when he sat in the lounge and worked with his embroidery. _Perhaps I just couldn't let go... It would hardly be surprising... And now when Matthew is here..._

He stopped his thoughts before he got any further. There it was again. During the past days, he had found himself thinking more and more about the Canadian, he had been more aware of the young man's presence than he had ever been before. At first he had thought that it was only because the lad was there to help him, but it felt so... odd. And the night before, he had found himself standing in the doorway to the guestroom, just watching Matthew sleep. It made him feel... peaceful, in a way. Part of his mind told him that it was wrong, since he had taken care of the lad, but another part told him that it was alright, because he liked to have the boy around. Or something more than that, perhaps...

_Don't think like that_, he thought, a frown slowly forming on his face. _You shouldn't think like that... You raised the boy, remember that. France handed him over to you, and you raised him as your own. It's wrong to..._ He stopped himself again for a moment. _I... I _did_ think about America like that... for some time... But this is Canada, he's not... He's not like his brother, not at all..._

He sighed deeply and looked down, putting down the embroidery next to him. He couldn't concentrate like this. He wanted to sort his thoughts out properly, but that was getting exceedingly difficult when he got distracted all the time...

"Arthur, are you alright?"

Blinking in surprise, Arthur turned his head, and found himself staring at Matthew's bare chest while the Canadian slowly buttoned up his shirt; the lad's hair was rather damp, showing that he had only just come out of the shower. When had Matthew gotten so muscular...? Or had he always had that lean, agile and muscular body? Had he always been that similar to (although quite a bit slimmer than) his brother...? The Brit forced himself to look away again, and closed his eyes just for good measure. He needed to clear his mind a little...

"I'm alright," he replied. "I'm just... thinking."

Matthew stepped closer and leant casually against the sofa, tilting his head as he watched the older man.

"Perhaps you shouldn't think so much," he suggested with a faint smile. "It might help to talk... I... I mean, if you do want to talk... You know that I'm here."

Emerald eyes opened again and looked at the Canadian, and a smile began to spread on Arthur's lips again at the words. The lad really was nervous about being forgotten again.

"Yes, I know that you're here, Matthew," he chuckled. "And I'm very glad for that. I'm very grateful for everything you've done... But I don't want you to forget about yourself, lad. It wouldn't be fair..."

Matthew let out a quiet sigh of relief and sat down next to the Englishman, watching him carefully.

"I do want to help you," he said calmly. "If there is something you want to talk about, then name it. I'll listen, and I'll try to give you some sort of advice if you need it."

Arthur closed his eyes with a low sigh and slowly sorted through his thoughts, all too aware of the Canadian watching him and waiting for a reply.

"I've been thinking a lot," he began slowly, "about Alfred and me... I mean... About what we had. And how it changed... And... _why_, I suppose. I always did love him, but... Maybe I didn't love him in the way that he loved me." He opened his eyes again and glanced down at the embroidery as he picked it up again, eyeing the patterns on the cloth. "I always thought about him, I didn't like that he left me behind... But what if I only ever got into that relationship because I couldn't let go...? I always felt... exasperated around him... And I wondered if there was any way to change his silly antics, to make him mature. He was always childish, and it was endearing, sure, but it wasn't what I wanted..."

Slowly, his nimble fingers were put to work again, the patterns on the cloth slowly becoming more complicated. However, he barely even watched when he worked; instead choosing to keep his eyes on whatever else he could think of. Including Matthew.

"I've kept thinking about someone else for some time, since all the problems started," he continued, making the Canadian tilt his head and watch him curiously. "Someone who's much more mature than Alfred, and... More quiet, more sophisticated... I mean, this person does have his flaws as well, I know that, and... And he's got a childish side that he doesn't show that often... But he's really sweet, and he likes being able to help..." A slight smile came to his lips. "I know that I never paid that much attention to him... And... I know that I rarely notice him. But I care much for him, and I know that he cares for me... Otherwise he wouldn't put up with me and my behaviour... He forgives so easily, he doesn't hold a grudge... Or well, maybe he does, but... I don't think he holds one against me..."

Matthew frowned slightly, trying to figure out who the older nation might mean. Someone who was more mature than America, a bit quieter, sophisticated, helpful... And someone who wasn't often noticed. Someone who forgave easily... Wait... He blinked and peered at the Brit, who now concentrated fully on his embroidery while that smile lingered on his face. Could Arthur really mean... This was truly beyond his wildest _dreams_...! He cared much for the man, of course, and he always did love him... But hearing Arthur actually _say_ this... Of course, it wasn't a real confession, just a statement about that he had been thinking about this person for a while...

"A-Arthur..." He moved a little closer, hoping that the older man wouldn't move away. "Uhm... This person..." Emerald eyes suddenly fixed on his own, and he took a deep breath. "I... J-just... Just who, exactly, do you mean...?"

Arthur tilted his head, but did not move away; a quiet chuckle passed over his lips.

"Who do you think, Matthew...?" His eyes gleamed slightly. "I really only know _one_ person like that, someone who isn't as appreciated as he ought to be..." He placed his hand over the Canadian's gingerly, not wanting to make him back away again. "Who do you think it is...?"

A smile came to Matthew's lips as well, and he leant a little closer; he felt more confident than usual, though that might be because of the fact that the older man was actually paying attention to him, he was only looking at him... He didn't need to be nervous about being forgotten.

"Me," he said softly. "I think you're talking about me..." His other hand reached out, the tips of his fingers gently touching Arthur's cheek. "Am I right...? Or am I dreaming again...?"

They were close now, close enough to let the tips of their noses brush against each other. Arthur's eyes were already half closed, but they steadily met the strangely intense gaze of Matthew's.

"Does this seem like a dream to you," he asked quietly. "Do you want me to prove that it's real?"

And with those words, he closed the distance between them, giving the younger man a gentle and chaste kiss. The Canadian's immediate response was to pull Arthur closer, wrapping his arms around the man's slender body to make sure that he wouldn't try to move away. The Englishman's hands came up and gently trailed through the lad's hair. After a moment's hesitance, Matthew began to deepen the kiss, a feeling of relief washing through his body as Arthur made no attempt to stop him. So gentle, so sweet...

"Arthur," he breathed as they broke apart for air, still keeping close to each other. "I love you... I've loved you for so long... Seeing you with Alfred hurt... It really hurt... But you seemed so happy, so I... I couldn't just..."

Arthur smiled warmly and gently placed one finger over the boy's lips to stop him from saying more.

"Please, Matthew," he said softly. "Not now. It can wait, can't it? I don't want to think about him now..."

Despite knowing that he'd normally feel very guilty about that he essentially stole Arthur from his brother, Matthew pushed those thoughts aside as he chuckled and embraced the older man. The only thing that mattered at the moment was that Arthur was there with him, and that they had all the time in the world to see how this would turn out...

* * *

It had been a while since the last World Meeting, something that Arthur had been most grateful for. He really didn't want to see Alfred at the moment. He had spent almost all his time with Matthew, even coming with the Canadian home and staying there for some time. Despite a sudden and unexpected visit from Francis, no one had interrupted them, and no other nation knew about their relationship. Francis had even congratulated them; although he did tell Arthur that if something happened to Matthew, the Brit would be held responsible. But now, it was time for the next meeting, at Ludwig's place, and although Arthur was friendlier with and paid more attention to the Canadian, no one seemed to notice anything unusual. But the first sign of that something was off showed during America's presentation. All of a sudden, Arthur stood up and interrupted the younger nation's never ending stream of words, smiled politely and nodded.

"If you had not noticed, your brother has been trying to get your attention for a while now", he said. "Perhaps you could stop loving the sound of your own voice for a moment and allow him to say something?"

A low murmur rose in the room as Alfred gave Arthur a very odd look before muttering quietly and nodding. Matthew smiled and got to his feet to speak, but took careful note of the dark look his brother sent the Brit. Something was going to happen, he just knew it...

Once it was time for lunch, Arthur calmly wandered back to his room; he had left some papers in there, and it was his turn to present later. So humming _Rule Britannia_ to himself, he rummaged through his pockets and pulled out the key, but stopped himself when a very familiar voice called out to him.

"Arthur!"

America came running towards him along the corridor, looking partly desperate and partly very angry. Arthur briefly considered opening the door and just going inside without caring, but before he could make a decision, a strong hand slammed against said door and blue eyes glared at him.

"What the hell are you doing? Why won't you talk to me? And seriously, what the fuck? It's not like Mattie had anything important to say!"

Arthur sighed deeply.

"He did, Alfred, if you had bothered with listening for once." Calmly, he looked back at the younger man. "And as to why I haven't talked to you... You do remember what happened, right? You beat me up and left me in an alley. You did nothing to help me. We have nothing together anymore, Alfred, so don't bother with trying to make me change my mind."

He turned away to unlock the door, but suddenly felt strong hands grab his wrists and force them behind his back. The grip was firm, and hardly gentle, as Alfred pulled the older man closer.

"I'm not letting you go," he growled and began to drag the effectively locked nation down the corridor. "You know that. And you know _why_. You're not going to be with someone else, Arthur!"

Despite the smaller nation's protests, he continued down the corridor, heading to his own room. After several failed attempts to free himself, Arthur did the first thing that came to mind; he took a deep breath and screamed at the top of his lungs, screamed the name of the man he wanted to come and save him.

"_Matthew_! _Help_!"

At the bottom of the stairs up to the next floor, several nations stopped and blinked in surprise as they heard the scream. Before they could react, Matthew raced past them at an impressive speed, with Francis and Kumajirou following him. The polar bear was surprisingly fast for being so lazy. As yet another scream sounded, some snapped out of it and followed. As Matthew rounded a corner and saw his brother and Arthur, red instantly covered his vision.

"Get the fuck away from him, you fat son of a hooker", he yelled furiously as he grabbed Alfred's arm and pulled as hard as he could, forcing the man to let go. "Let go of him!"

Alfred attempted to shake his brother off; he didn't want to hit him, but as he flailed a little his hand smacked against Matthew's cheek. And in response, a fist connected with his jaw and made him reel back. And so, the fight had started. Punches and kicks flew, and they kept yelling loud insults at each other. Arthur stumbled away, massaging his wrists gently to get the blood flowing properly again.

"_Angleterre_, are you alright?" Francis wrapped one arm around the slightly younger man and hugged him gently. "Come, just back away..." His grip tightened slightly as Arthur attempted to instead step closer to the brawl. "You do not want to get in the way, _mon ami_! They won't stop for a while, so please, stay here!"

A loud surprised shout signalled the arrival Feliciano, who now clung to Ludwig with an upset look on his face while the German in question stared in shock at the scene in front of him; the two North Americans locked in a vicious fistfight, and with a certain polar bear helping the normally calm one of the brothers by biting the other and growling angrily.

"What in the world..."

"Ve~! Ludwig, why are they fighting?"

"Ludwig!"

Arthur hurried over to the German and grabbed the sleeve of his jacket, making the stern man blink in surprise at the pleading look in his eyes.

"Please, Ludwig, stop them! I can't let anything happen, not now! Please!"

More nations rounded the corner, among them Ivan, who laughed with childish delight as he saw what was going on.

"You need help to separate them, da," he said with a wide smile. "I can help. America won't try to fight me."

Ludwig carefully made the upset Italian let go of his arm as he slowly stepped closer. They needed to be careful so that they weren't drawn into the fight, since the two men were throwing punches everywhere. But as soon as there was an opening, Ivan and Ludwig hurried to grab the two men and forced them apart. Alfred squirmed violently in the Russian's firm grasp, and his blue eyes did not for a single moment leave the Canadian who slowly calmed down. Arthur immediately stepped over to the latter and took his hand.

"Matthew," he said softly. "Are you alright?"

Alfred growled furiously; the Brit didn't even glance at him, as if he didn't even exist anymore. Those beautiful green eyes that used to gaze at him constantly were now locked on _Matthew_, of all people. He should probably have expected it, since the bastard had always been pining for Arthur's attention, but that thought really didn't help him calm down.

"Fuck you, Mattie," he growled. "You've never been able to keep your fucking hands to yourself!"

Matthew immediately reacted and glared at his brother again.

"_I_ haven't kept my hands to myself? What about you? Why can't you let _me_ be happy for once? I love Arthur, and at least _I_ won't cheat on him! He didn't even say anything about liking me before he had broken up with you!"

Alfred growled angrily, ready to lunge at Matthew; but Arthur immediately stepped between them.

"Stop it," he said sharply. "Stop it, both of you! Neither of you are children, and I am _not_ a toy for you to fight over!" He glared angrily at Alfred. "I broke up with you, no matter what you say. Sleep with whoever you want; you're not in a relationship with me anymore." Then he looked at Matthew again, and a small smile appeared on his face as he carefully reached out and trailed his fingers over the younger nation's cheek. "I love you, Matthew, you know that I do. And I am very grateful for that you came to help me. But please, stop it now... Let's go, love, and I'll have a look at those bruises, alright?"

He took the Canadian's hand in a firm grasp, thanked Ludwig and Ivan for their assistance, and went back to his room, leaving Alfred to stare after them.

"Ow!"

"Love, if you keep squirming like that, you really can't blame me for poking the bruises, you know."

Matthew blushed faintly and nodded, trying to keep still as Arthur examined the quickly blooming marks on his body. It hurt a bit, of course, it was _bound_ to hurt. But the Englishman tried to be as gentle as possible, since he didn't want to add another bruise to the collection.

"Alfred hits hard," Matthew complained as he turned his head a little bit to let his lover take a look on the bruise on his jaw. "I swear, he's on steroids..."

"Now, you know that's not true," Arthur chuckled. "He hits hard, yes, but you surely left equal marks on him. I've never seen you so angry before..."

Matthew blushed deeply, but couldn't stop the smile that spread on his lips at the comment.

"Well, he tried to hurt you," he mumbled. "I couldn't let him do that, Arthur... I can't let anyone hurt you. I love you too much."

Arthur gently coaxed the lad into turning his head and gave him a soft kiss.

"I never said that it wasn't nice to see," he replied quietly. "You're always so quiet and shy... I like to see every single side of you, I want to know all of you..." Another kiss, this one a bit firmer and deeper. "I love you, Matthew..."

* * *

Time had passed quickly, and already two years had gone. Arthur hummed happily to himself as he wandered up to the door of his lover's house, ready to spend a work-free week with the young man. True, it was the season for Matthew's favourite sport, hockey, and he knew all too well how the Canadian acted when it came to that. But Arthur _did_ know how to distract him as well, and use that rage for something more... productive. He smiled a little to himself as he reached out to knock, but the door suddenly opened in front of him and he found himself staring into a pair of sky blue eyes that were almost painfully familiar.

"... Alfred", he said, noting the surprise in his own voice. "I didn't know that you were here..."

The American stared back at him for a moment before smiling, although it looked a little pained.

"Uhm... Yeah, I was just leaving," he said slowly. "Been here on business, so I stayed at Mattie's... Uh... So... You've got a week off?"

Arthur nodded with a smile.

"Yes, finally," he chuckled. "Besides, someone needs to keep Matthew from going on a rampage if his team loses... So I thought that it'd be best if I came here."

"Heh, he's been preparing all morning." The grin that now appeared on Alfred's lips was genuine, much to the Brit's relief. "We watched the first game yesterday, so he was cleaning while I fixed breakfast, and he kept asking me to check if he really had everything... Doesn't look like he wants to leave the house this week."

"Arthur!" Matthew came running down the hallway, a wide smile on his lips as he pulled his lover close and embraced him tightly. "I'm sorry, I got distracted..."

As the two stepped back inside, Alfred said goodbye to them and wandered away. But he did stop and glance back over his shoulder, seeing them through the window as they embraced and kissed. He frowned slightly and forced himself to turn away again.

_You have a plane to catch_, he thought. _You gotta go home now..._

He sighed deeply. Two years already, two years spent thinking about if he had acted differently, if he hadn't slept with someone else...

"_But Arthur!"_

"_I told you, Alfred, it won't happen! I love Matthew, I'm not going to leave him!"_

"_Arthur, I love you! I really do!"_

"_But I don't love you, not like that! You're a friend, you stupid git, it's not more!"_

"_I swear, I'll change, I'm not going to do that again! Never!"_

"_Alfred. Please, stop. You always said that you just wanted me to be happy... I'm sorry, I really am, but it had to end, Alfred. I do still want to be your friend, but you'll have to accept that I can't offer you more."_

"_I..."_

"_I will give you whatever time you need, I promise. But I'm not going back to you..."_

While Alfred had acted normal during this whole time, as if nothing had been bothering him at all, he still felt the jealousy and anger burn in him whenever he saw them together. But acting on it was out of the question. Arthur was happy; these words repeated themselves in his head over and over like a mantra, forcing him to stay calm and act normal. It was a waiting game. If Matthew ever did hurt Arthur, then Alfred would be there to help the Brit and take care of him. It was only a matter of time, wasn't it? He'd stay close, act like a true friend, always there to help. And if his brother did something wrong, he'd have Arthur back.

* * *

**Er... xD Yes, I had to? No, I couldn't just let Arthur and Alfred be happy? Yes, I had to let Mattie end up with Arthur? I wanted to see how Alfred would be when he was mad with jealousy? Take your pick. XD Reviews are, as always, very much loved.**


End file.
